


Roger's Twelve

by starthief



Series: Roger's Eleven [2]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Captain Marvel (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Plugs, Belly Rubs, Body Worship, Choking, Chubby Kink, Daddy Kink, Dom!Bucky, Dom/sub Undertones, F/F, Fat fetish, Feeding, Feeding Kink, Feedism, Feminization, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Modern AU, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Sex Toys, Size Difference, Size Kink, Stuffing, Weight Gain, Weight Issues, fat appreciation, sub!Steve, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2019-11-16 01:25:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18084758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starthief/pseuds/starthief
Summary: Steve and Bucky fly to Iceland to hide from the law (and the plot).





	1. Steve POV

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this came later than I promised! The upside is that I watched Captain Marvel yesterday, so now Carol and Maria are the second relationship in this story. There aren't any spoilers for it, since it's a modern AU. If you haven't seen it in theatres yet, I highly suggest you do!  
> Updates every Saturday :3  
> Come find me on tumblr @easily-suede if you want to talk!

Steve turned over in bed, to find the space next to him empty. In the darkness, he searched for his phone and checked the time. It was after 7 am, but the sun still wouldn’t begin to rise for another hour. Days were short and nights were cold in Myvatn, Iceland, but Steve felt warmer in the last two months than he ever had before in his life.

He exited from under the six down comforters insulating his bed and entered the main- and only other- room of his and Bucky’s cottage. The fireplace was lit, and there was coffee percolating in the machine, but the room was vacant. Steve pulled his coat on and checked the thermometer. 40* Fahrenheit, but the wind would make it feel closer to 0. He bundled it tighter around himself and ventured outside, shuffling along the pathway to the enclosure leading to the pastures. The incessant snow storms had finally stopped last month, and the last of the piles had melted away under the heat of the June sun. Steve had begun to feel rather waterlogged all throughout May, and he was beginning to miss the DC sun, but the sun was actually quite strong and warm if the effect wasn’t ruined by the wind. 

He found Bucky sitting on the little three-legged stool, pulled up next to their pregnant Ewe, Dorothy. Carol had warned them not to name their sheep so they wouldn’t get attached, but Steve always had a problem not getting attached to things. “How’s she doin’?” He asked Bucky, standing behind him and working his hands down to his thick shoulders to massage his muscles, gently buried under a layer of pudge the early spring had added.

“Good. She looks huge, I almost feel bad that she isn’t due for another two weeks.”

“Mm.” Steve crouched next to him on the ground, wary of the droppings that littered the dirt floor. “You have breakfast yet?”

Bucky half-turned to face him, and smiled into a kiss. “No. Not like I thought I’d ever be hungry again after last night.” His stomach betrayed him with a growl.

Steve laughed. “Sounds like you two are in disagreement, there.” 

Bucky responded by kissing him again, and slipping his tongue between Steve’s lips. Steve pulled back with a chuckle. “Ugh, let’s do that inside. Smells like sheep out here.”

Bucky swatted his behind. “Yeah, and you taste like morning breath, but you don’t hear me complaining.” He followed Steve back up the path. “Hey, who’s that, off in the distance?”

Steve squinted in the dark, barely making out a figure in light blue, reflective coat catching the lantern from their porch. “I dunno. Do we have a meeting with Carol today?”

Bucky shook his head, leaning forward to bite Steve’s neck. “Think I can make you come before they get here?”

“Bucky!” Steve chastised, turning pink nevertheless. “Absolutely not.” He pulled the bigger man inside, and got to work at making breakfast.

There was a brisk knock on their door a few minutes later (“Think you coulda made it, pal,” Bucky remarked, ducking a dish towel Steve had thrown in his direction), and Bucky answered it to reveal Maria’s smiling face. “Good morning! Come inside, it’s cold.” 

Maria thanked him and stepped inside.

“Could I offer you some pancakes? There’s  _ plenty _ .” Steve gestured at the mountain of perfectly golden pancakes he’d already made, enough for at least four. 

“Oh, I shouldn’t, I already had breakfast, but they  _ do _ smell good.” 

“They are,” Bucky insisted. “And they’re blueberry, too.” 

“...Well, why not?” Maria conceded, taking off her coat and giving it to Bucky’s outstretched arm. “Blueberries are my favourite.” She took a seat on the counter, ignoring the two chairs tucked underneath the island. 

“So, what brings you here this morning?” Steve asked, flipping another pancake onto the pile. 

“Well, Carol and I have good news, and we wanted to share it with you first.” 

Steve grinned. “Really? We’re honoured.” After landing in Iceland, one of Bucky’s friends had set them up with fake identities and untraceable bank accounts. Bucky’s cover involved a major in agricultural science, and Steve had been reading everything Google could provide about sheep. They stayed at an Inn in Reykjavik for a few nights while Bucky contacted an Icelandic sheep farmer who was leasing a cottage and attached 13 acres (with Sheep). They’d met with her and her wife, and apparently they’d made a good enough impression on the couple, as they’d signed all paperwork and become fast friends. Since then, they’d gone from landladies and tenants, to neighbours borrowing sugar (a quickly diminishing ingredient from the Rogers-Barnes household), to fast friends.

“The adoption papers were approved. We’re bringing hope a little girl next month!”

“Congratulations!” Bucky gave her a tight huge, and Steve grinned from the stove. “How old?”

“She’s 11. A little bit older than we wanted, but that’s okay. Her name is Monica. We met her a few weeks ago, and we both really liked her, but it looked like she was going to be adopted by another family.” She paused for a moment, eating a few bites of pancake. “Mm, Steve, this really is amazing. Anyway, the agency looked like it was going to favour a heterosexual couple over Carol and I, but at the last moment the gentleman got a job offer and they moved to Asia. So, she’s coming to stay with us!”

“That’s wonderful, Maria. You and Carol are going to be wonderful mothers,” Steve encouraged. 

At their insistence, Maria stayed for a while more, chatting about room decor and how excited she was. She didn’t even notice that Bucky managed to eat just over a dozen pancakes, but Steve couldn’t take his eyes off the brunet’s mouth as he swallowed every bite. By the time Maria left and they bid her their goodbyes and offer extra layers of warmth, his belly was swollen and tight. 

“Oof, fuck, Steve,” Bucky cursed as he adjusted himself on the low couch near the fire. “Damn, she’s the one who’s expecting, but I sure look like it.”

Steve nodded enthusiastically, worrying his hands over Bucky’s tight hoodie, fingers itching to take it off and feel the hot skin underneath. “Guess spring’s the time to get knocked up,” he remarked.

Bucky chuckled. “Guess so.” He complied with Steve’s vague gesturing, sitting up as much as he could so Steve could pull the hoodie off over his head, spreading his hands over the round globe and rubbing soothing circles into the sides. “Hang on, you’re not getting any ideas, are you?”

It took Steve a moment to process what he was saying. “Who,  _ me _ ?” In all honesty, Steve hadn’t ever thought seriously about being a father. He’d given up on that once he realized he was gay, and after his acceptance into the military, it became pretty clear that he wouldn’t be able to take a husband of his own. Granted, running away from America to become a diamond thief in Wakanda and then spend the rest of his life as a shepherd in Iceland wasn’t part of the plan, but no plans he could’ve ever made for his life would compare to having Bucky by his side. Since the beginning of their whirlwind relationship, he’d been letting himself be more cognizant of his own desires and feelings. He’d put aside every instinct he had to get on the plane with Bucky, and every rule he’d ever learned didn’t seem to apply anymore. They’d gone from enemies who wouldn’t trust each other in the slightest to boyfriends moving in together in the span of a couple of weeks, and while it had been more perfect than Steve thought was possible, it had been very fast. He hadn’t regretted co-signing the leasing document with Bucky, and he wouldn’t sacrifice waking up next to him every morning for everything, but they hadn’t talked about their future. They hadn’t talked about what they were any further than before the plane when they confessed their love to each other, either. Iceland had been an endless parade of days filled with sex, tending after sheep, watching Bucky eat egregious amounts of food and his waistline expand in correspondence, and more sex. It felt powerful, incredibly joyous and idyllic, but also fragile. Steve knew Bucky very intimately, but he was still afraid to say the wrong thing. They’d skipped so many of the natural stages of a relationship, and it left Steve on rather uneasy footing. He didn’t know what Bucky’s taste in furniture was, so he let the brunet take care of the decorating. He didn’t know what it was okay to call the other man, so he let him set the standard for terms of endearment. He didn’t know what Bucky’s libido was like three or four months into a relationship, so he let Bucky initiate sex. He really,  _ really _ loved the man, more deeply than he’d ever loved anyone, and it frightened him a little. It wasn’t that he thought Bucky might hurt him- rather, he was afraid that by saying the wrong thing or acting the wrong way, he’d disappoint Bucky. So for the most part, he kept his fears to himself, only talking about what was to come next if Bucky mentioned it first. 

So when Bucky playfully asked Steve if he wanted children, it took him by surprise a little.

“Uh, no. Ha. No way. I couldn’t-- I don’t ever-- How, even, would you, like? I don’t- not really. Kids aren’t my, uh, I’m… “ he stammered, brain running through a million different possible responses and failing to choose one.

Bucky’s face turned nervous. “Hey, it’s okay. I was just joking. I wasn’t serious. I know we’re not ready. I mean, it’s okay, we don’t ever have to be, if you don’t want to. Is that… are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve said quickly. “Yeah.” He repeated himself, grinding his erection down onto Bucky’s thigh. “Forget it. Let’s just. Uh.”

Bucky laughed, bracing Steve’s shoulders with his strong arms. “You wanna ride me, honey?” 

“ _ Yes _ . Please, sir. I want to feel your cock inside me.” Steve knew Bucky loved it when he ran his filthy mouth, and it got him off, too, to go on like that. He had a tendency to babble, but when his mind was on the right track, he could talk for hours about how good Bucky made him feel. 

“Okay, sweetheart. Unbuckle my belt.” 

Steve reached under Bucky’s belly to find the strap. The belt was fastened on the last loop, and it gave Steve a thrill of excitement, his dick twitching. After Steve confessing that he didn’t think Bucky should lose weight, the brunet put aside all hopes of dieting, and proceeded to pile on another twenty or so pounds in two months. He’d outgrown his old size, but the clothes they’d packed for Wakanda didn’t work for Icelandic weather, anyway. They’d purchased new wardrobes in a local thrift store (‘local’ meaning ‘a two hour ride’ in the beat up Jeep Steve had bought, the Icelandic equivalent of a quick drive down the street), Bucky griping the whole time about how hard it was to find clothes in a 2XL size that fit his style. He’d had to give up worn out band tees, jeans, and stylish jackets for thick cargo pants, flannels, and many layers of fur-lined coats, but if Steve was being honest, he found Bucky hot in everything. 

He slipped the belt out of the loops with some difficulty to find his pants unbuttoned underneath. Bucky sighed, letting out a breath he’d been holding for far too long, and his belly pushed down the zipper the rest of the way. Steve ran his fingers over the red imprints his belt and pants had left in his plush skin. Bucky lifted up his hips, and Steve worked his pants and boxers down his hips. “God, honey. Feel so  _ full _ .”

Steve skimmed one hand over his thick side like a prayer, writing his worship into Bucky’s body with his fingertips. “You look it. Shit, how many pancakes did you have?”

“Fourteen,” Bucky groaned. They’d been medium sized, not quite big enough to fill a whole plate, but not small enough to be considered silver dollars. The amount was still impressive. “Ugh. ‘M not gonna be able to get these pants on at all, soon.”

Steve squeezed the fattest part of his tummy, below his belly button. “It’s cause you try to button them over this.”

“Yeah, well, if I didn’t, my gut would hang over the waistband,” Bucky argued.

“So let it hang.”

Bucky made a face. “It’ll poke out underneath my shirts.”

Steve licked over Bucky’s nipple, making him hiss. “Then tuck your shirt in.”

“That’s easy enough for you to say. You have a waist like a cheerleader.” He grabbed Steve’s hips and situated him on his lap better, instantly shutting him up. All he ever had to do to make Steve’s mind go completely blank was to manhandle him. “Take your shirt off.”

“Yes… sir.” Steve automatically replied to all verbal commands with a ‘yes, sir’. It was something that had been ingrained in him from the army, and with the dynamic they’d naturally fallen into, Bucky didn’t seem to mind it, either. But there were other things he wanted to call Bucky, too. Things that seeing him a good twenty pounds heavier, bearded and letting his hair grow out, wearing rough clothes and fixing fences in snowstorms inspired. He looked up at Bucky’s face, into his beautiful eyes, begging the man to let him say it. 

_ Please, please, please, be what I want you to be. Please be okay with it. Please love me. Please.  _

But, he was worried he was too needy, too annoying, too clingy. It wasn’t enough to have physical contact with Bucky every hour of the day. It wasn’t enough to live in a house so small they breathed in each other’s air with every moment. It wasn’t enough to be on an island so small they could make Ring Road in 13 hours. It wasn’t enough, not until he had all of him, every last part, and everything that was left afterward. Steve wanted Bucky with such a furious desire that it was incendiary, catching fire within his chest, and keeping it to himself was burning him alive. He wanted  _ more _ . So much more than he could ever describe, much more than he was certain Bucky would ever want to give. And he didn’t want his options to be ‘more’ or ‘nothing’, so he settled for ‘some’. 

“Sir,” he choked out, voice breaking in a sort of sob. He physically ached, so hard he felt like he was tearlessly weeping, gasps and shudders tearing apart his ribs and making him desperately huff for air. He could feel his heartbeat in the tip of his nose. He dug his fingers into Bucky’s shoulders as he lined up, too preoccupied with their actions to bother with a condom, nothing but the lube from the bottle they kept under the couch to ease his entrance. He pleaded, screaming the words with his mind, so loud he thought he could shatter glass at will.  _ Please, please, please, please. _

“Tell me what you want, honey,” Bucky grunted, easing Steve down onto him. 

He paused, walls adjusting. They’d talked about unprotected sex, and as both of them tested negative for any STIs, it was never something they shied away from unless they were avoiding a mess. 

Steve hissed, the sensation of being stretched out burning the thoughts in his mind before they could escape his lips. He’d never get tired of the sensation of skin on skin, his ass sitting on Bucky’s thighs as he bottomed out, dick pressing against Bucky’s hard stomach. 

“Steve, talk to me,” Bucky panted. 

Steve loved him. God, he loved him. He was so considerate, and he knew Steve almost too well. “Nothing. I’m just… overthinking again. Sorry. You know me,” Steve tried to joke. 

“Hey, is it about what I said earlier? ‘Cause it really was a joke, if you want to talk about kids--”

“No, no, please.” Steve didn’t want to ruin the mood. He wanted Bucky inside him, around him, and he was so close to finishing. He didn’t want to disappoint Bucky. He wanted to be good, so good. He rocked forward, careful not to jostle Bucky too much. Everything felt too good, too sharp, and he was afraid it would end too soon. “Can I… please, sir,” Steve whimpered.

“Do you need to come, baby? Come for me, Stevie, you’re so good for me.” 

Steve arched his back and came, spilling all over Bucky’s stomach like he liked. The best part about living two miles away from the closest neighbour was that he could scream as loud as he wanted and no one would ever hear him. He’d thought before that he was a silent lover, but it turned out that the right partner could make him howl. 

Bucky pulled out, and after the last of Steve’s orgasm had torn through him, he bent his head down to finish Bucky off. It didn’t take much; he licked his tongue over the slit and felt Bucky’s balls tighten, and then he hollowed his cheeks and swallowed down the other man’s load. 

Bucky worked his fingers into Steve’s hair, not pulling or pushing, just resting on his head. “God, yes, sweetheart, that feels so good.” 

When he was done, Steve pulled off and came up to kiss his mouth. “I love you,” he whispered, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to shout it until his voice was raw. He wanted to paint it into the hills with gasoline and set the words on fire. He wanted to align the stars in space until the whole world could read his proclamation. 

“I love you, too,” Bucky responded with a smile, and it felt like everything. Everything Steve had ever desired, filling up his heart and his mind. Everything, but not enough. 


	2. Bucky POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Steve go grocery shopping and then Bucky bottoms.

Bucky returned to the cart a moment later with a ripe cantaloupe in his hands. He loved Steve, but the man did  _ not  _ know how to pick a ripe melon. He cast a glance into the cart and saw a few half pints of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream, cherry garcia and karamel sutra. 

“Isn’t a bit cold for ice cream?” he asked.

Steve shrugged. “You don’t have to eat it.”

Bucky eyed the freezer, then pulled out a pint of phish food, too. “This kind’s my favourite.”

Sometimes, the domestic things with Steve were his favourite. It was an unexpected upside to running away with his boyfriend. 

A romantic song came on the radio of the boom box that was set on the single check-out lane. It was the second closest grocery store to their cottage (closest being a 45 minute drive) but it was worth it for the variety of food.  _ It’s the important things, _ Bucky reminded himself.  _ Like ice cream. _

Bucky started swaying his hips and humming a little. He didn’t know the song, but it was catchy and repetitive. 

Steve chuckled. “Putting on a show for me?”

Bucky sighed. “I missed dancing. You know, they didn’t have a single dance at prison?”

Steve cast him the same tolerant yet amused look he did whenever Bucky made jokes about his time as an inmate. “Shocking. I’ll have to write the board about that.”

Feeling romantic, Bucky took Steve’s hand that wasn’t picking a head of lettuce. “Guess we’ll just have to make it up now.”

“Bucky,” Steve hissed, eyes darting toward the ancient cashier, who was too busy reading a newspaper to care what they did. “Can’t it wait until we get home?”

“Why should it?” Bucky exclaimed, spinning Steve jovially. “‘ _ I bloom just for you! _ ’” he sung.

Steve cocked an eyebrow, allowing himself to twist until he came to rest with his back to Bucky’s chest, hand holding Bucky’s in front of him. He was a good dancer, although Bucky supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. “That’s proven to be mostly untrue, but okay.” He let go and stepped forward, cheeks as red as the tomato he was selecting. 

“What do you mean?” Bucky stepped forward, putting a hand on Steve’s small waist, unwilling to give up their dance just yet.

Steve smiled mischievously. “This song’s about bottoming, sweetheart. If memory serves correctly, I’m usually the one in that department.”

“Hm,” Bucky said pensively, drawing close to Steve’s ear. “Well, maybe I’ll let you fuck me tonight,” he whispered.

“Very romantic,” Steve brushed him off, heading toward the bread aisle. 

Bucky followed him with the cart. “Hey! I’m trying to be romantic, here. You’re the one that won’t dance with me.”

“Time and a place, Bucky,” Steve said, exasperated. “Wheat or white?”

“Hey, c’mon a sec.” Bucky gently took Steve’s elbow until the blond faced him. “Let’s talk about it. You think I should be more romantic?”

Steve blushed again, looking somewhere just to the left of Bucky’s face. “We’ve been together for only two months.”

“So? So, if you’re saying I should make more candlelit dinners, I will. Maybe a little more dine and less wine, I get it. And hey, if you want to slow it down, we can. We can cuddle instead. You know, we usually just make out when we watch movies, but I love movies. We could try actually watching--”

“That’s not the point,” Steve cut him off. “I don’t mean I want to slow things down. It’s just… we had sex first, before we even really knew each other.”  _ And we still don’t _ , Bucky felt like he almost added. “Sometimes I miss the cutesy stuff.”

“Okay. So I’ll hold your hand and take you on a ferris wheel. If I can find one. We can go for walks in the beach in the summer, whatever you want, honey. Just tell me.”

“I don’t know what I want!” Steve was getting exasperated. Bucky knew that he tended to only get angry when he was frustrated, and he was usually frustrated with himself and his inability to fix things. Next would come tears, and while Bucky didn’t mind comforting Steve while he cried, he knew that Steve would rather not break down in a grocery store. 

“Okay, it’s okay, Stevie. That’s alright. Take your time to think about it, if you want. You can take as long as you need, and whenever you have it figured out, you just let me know, okay?”

Steve didn’t verbally respond, and it made Bucky nervous, not knowing what he was thinking. He wanted to help him, but how was he supposed to if he didn’t know when Steve needed him to give? 

“Steve?” he prompted. 

Steve nodded, his blond hair flopping out of the smooth coif he’d gelled it into that morning. “Yes. Okay.” But Bucky still wasn’t sure he’d entirely understood. He’d let it go for now, at least. 

“Okay.” Bucky smiled at him, hoping he was being reassuring at least. “So, for bread… let’s get French bread. It’ll go better with dinner, yeah?” 

They decided on spaghetti and meat sauce with garlic bread and cauliflower. While the noodles were boiling and the meatsauce was simmering, Bucky sneakily got out some tealight candles and set them on the counter. Steve gave him a soft smile when he lit them, and Bucky felt his chest tighten. Dinner was good, if the noodles were a little too al dente and the cauliflower was a little too soggy. But he was eating next to Steve, and when he wasn’t using both hands to twirl his noodles he’d take Bucky’s free hand on the table. After dessert, they went to sleep spooning.

 

Steve helped Dorothy deliver her two lambs, and the flock needed less attention. As the weather got warmer, Steve took to taking long walks along the countryside alone. Bucky didn’t mind; he knew the former officer needed some time to clear his head, and space is good for a relationship, anyway. Sometimes he took the Jeep so he could drive someplace and then walk there. Bucky would usually FaceTime Nat or someone else from the crew, keeping touch and seeing how they were spending their hundreds. 

He also took to have a pint of ice cream every night before bed. Steve had bought 5, and they were all in the fridge, and it seemed like Steve wasn’t going to eat them. It was nice. He really liked ice cream, when he thought about it. There hadn’t really been a time in his life when it was as accessible as now, and he enjoyed the variety of flavours. 

The pints went quickly, though, and Bucky wasn’t about to replace them himself the next time they went shopping. After Steve’s walk one day, however, Bucky opened the fridge to find seven new pints on the shelf. There were three new flavours, and all seven of them were finished the next time they went shopping. Both of the weeks following that, Steve had added the pints into the cart without checking with Bucky. It was a nice routine he was building up; the perfect end to a perfect day. He almost couldn’t think of a single thing he’d wish in his life that he didn’t already have. He woke up every morning next to a beautiful man, they’d tend the sheep and pop over to see how Carol and Maria were doing, he’d read for a while near the fireplace, he and Steve had sex almost every day, he’d have his ice cream, and they’d go to bed. It wasn’t talked about, but it always put a smile on his face to see that Steve had gotten more.

After three weeks of having a pint of ice cream every night, however, it was getting harder to button his pants. He didn’t want to mention to Steve that he wanted to go shopping for more clothes, so he figured that left him with one other option.

“Hey, maybe don’t get any ice cream this time, okay?” Bucky suggested while Steve was putting their customary seven pints into the cart. It killed him to bring it up, this thing Steve was being so good by doing, this thing that made him so happy by having. But a too much of a good thing won’t be good for long, right?

Steve blinked at him for a moment, but then just shrugged. “Okay.” He put the ice cream back. 

Bucky felt his dread coil in the pit of his stomach for a moment, but he assured himself he was being ridiculous.  _ It’s just ice cream. Shut up about it already. _

Still, he couldn’t get it out of his mind for the rest of the day. Steve had agreed so quickly, and with no resistance. Back at the airport, he’d said Bucky didn’t need to lose any weight, but maybe Bucky shouldn’t gain any, either.

_ Too late, _ he thought ruefully, scowling at his reflection. How much did he even weigh, anyway? Certainly more than in Wakanda. And even there, it had been more than in prison. The last time he’d weighed himself had to have been years ago. Maybe even as far away as the last time he’d had his mandatory annual doctor appointment in prison, and back then he’d clocked in at a husky 220. Being overweight helped in prison. Made him feel protected, larger. Miles away from the skinny little kid he’d been in college. And sure, maybe it was fucked up. But it kept him safe.

Now, though, he knew he was safe. His days were a blur of relaxing and eating. Steve did most of the heavy lifting when it came to spreading more bales of hay in the enclosure, or moving fallen tree branches, or making repairs on the fence. He hadn’t expressed any unwillingness to do manual labour, just a quick efficiency when something needed to be done, and Bucky was content to let him do it. When the time came for both of them to have to use their muscle, though, Bucky didn’t want to fall behind. He wanted to impress the other man, as silly as it might have seemed.

So yeah, maybe slimming down wasn’t a bad idea. He didn’t need three plates of pasta. Maybe he’d wake up and go running, or ask Steve if he could join him on a walk or two.  _ It wouldn’t kill me to fork some of the heavy bales of hay myself,  _ he thought.  _ Or lift weights. Or logs. Whatever people in Iceland lift. _

He opened the Amazon app on his phone, searching for a scale. It was a start.

 

Four days later, he was scrolling through Twitter when Steve came up to him, holding a small box. 

“What’s that?”

“I dunno, it’s for you. Want scissors?”

Bucky nodded, and Steve came back a moment later. He read the shipping label. “Oh, yeah, I forgot I ordered this.” He took the scissors. “It came sooner than I expected,” he remarked.

Steve hovered for a moment. Bucky didn’t continue opening the box. “What is it?”

“Uh, a scale.”

“Oh. For the sheep? That’s a good idea.” 

“Yeah!”  _ Why didn’t I think of that? _ “We can make sure Dorothy’s lambs are healthy.” Carol had been by yesterday to check on them, and she’d insisted that they refer to them as ‘46 and 47’, not ‘Toto and Scarecrow’ as Steve had already named them. 

Steve took out the scale after Bucky opened the box. They found some D batteries and the machine blinked to life. “Would you mind weighing them? The meatloaf’s cooking and I don’t want to burn it.”

Bucky went out to the enclosure and greeted the lambs. They wouldn’t be weaned for another month, but they were up and walking. Bucky chose Scarecrow first, setting the scale on the straw and attempting to get him to stand on it. The lamb bleated as he tried to get all four hooves on. “I know, hold on,” he muttered, picking up the lamb. Dorothy eyed him from the corner, but she trusted him enough not to interfere. 

Scarecrow bleated again and gave a little kick, running back over to her mother. Bucky sighed and pulled out his phone.

_ JBB: Are you sure we didn’t accidentally get goats? These things are impossible. _

_ SGR: xD _

_ What do they weigh? _

_ JBB: No fucking clue. Can’t get them to stand on the scale. _

_ SGR: Omg _

_ You really are a shitty shepherd _

_ Weigh yourself, then pick up the lamb and weigh yourself again. _

Bucky bristled. 

_ JBB: Why do I have to weigh myself first? _

_ SGR: ... _

_ So you know the starting weight, genius. You subtract your weight from the combined weight and then get the weight of the lamb. _

Bucky pocketed his phone, but it chimed a moment later. 

_ SGR: I can do it after dinner if you like. _

Bucky tapped out his response. 

_ JBB: No, it’s fine. Just give me a sec. _

He took a deep breath and stepped on the scale.

_ 264 _ , the green numbers read. 

Bucky stared at it in shock, then jumped as his phone chimed again.

“For the love of…” he muttered, pulling it out again.

_ SGR: What’s it say? _

Bucky froze.

_ SGR: The lamb. _

_ JBB: Keep your shirt on. _

_ SGR: No _

Bucky picked up Toto first, letting Scarecrow take a little break, then his sister, subtracting the numbers in his head.

_ JBB: Scarecrow is 16 lbs. Toto is 14 _

He put the aggravated lamb down, then turned the scale off and went back inside. As he entered, the timer on Steve’s phone went off. “Meatloaf’s ready!” he called from the oven. Bucky stepped up to his phone to shut off the timer. 

_ SmartScale _ _ ™: 3 notifications _

Bucky’s heart stopped for a moment and a chill rushed down his back.  _ No, no, no, _ he begged, swiping on the notification to see the preview.

_ 5:55 pm: 264 lbs _

_ 5:57 pm: 278 lbs _

_ 6:01 pm: 280 lbs _

He quickly deleted the notification and cursed himself for getting a smart scale. He’d purchased the scale from their joint account, which had Steve’s number connected. Steve must have downloaded the app while he was out with the sheep. Bucky prayed he hadn’t seen the numbers yet. His text giving their weight was unread, so it was possible that Steve had gone to check the meatloaf before the notification came through. Bucky tapped through to the app and turned off “auto-update weight in phone”.

“Thanks,” Steve said, startling him. 

He quickly set down his phone and turned off the display. “What?” he stuttered.

“For shutting off the alarm,” Steve clarified. “Uh… are you ready?”

“Yeah! Sorry. Let’s eat.” Bucky took a seat at the counter. 

“Want a beer?” Steve asked, fetching his own from the fridge. 

“Just water, thanks.” 

Steve set down Bucky’s glass and his bottle. Bucky cut the meatloaf and served both of them slices. Steve started talking about the sheep, but Bucky was distracted, anxiety swirling all the thoughts in his head. 

“Hey, you alright?”

“What? Sorry, yeah. This is good, Steve, thanks.”

Steve chuckled. “Could’ve fooled me.” He pointed with his fork to where Bucky’s slice was only half eaten. “Usually you inhale the whole loaf. Did I fuck up the recipe?”

“No, no, it’s perfect, really,” Bucky reassured him. He didn’t want to be an ass. “I guess I’m just not hungry.”

“Oh.” Steve shifted in his seat. “Well, there’s carrot cake, if that perks up your appetite at all.”

“What? Why’d you get carrot cake?”

“I thought you liked carrot cake,” Steve replied, his brow creasing.

“I do- I mean, I didn’t know there was dessert.”

“Of course. If you want, afterwards, you can guess which toy I have up my ass, and if you get it right, you can fuck me.”

That got Bucky’s mind on the right track instantly. “And what if I get it wrong?”

“Then I get to fuck you.”

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “You’re gonna top?”

Steve shrugged. “Depends on if you guess right or not.”

Bucky nodded. “Okay. But can we skip dessert.”

Steve smirked, writhing wickedly in his seat. “What, you just can’t wait?”

Bucky stood so suddenly his chair fell back, looming over Steve where he was still seated. He could hear the blond catch his breath. “You should know not to tease with something I want,” he warned, his voice throaty and turned on.

Steve’s pupils were dilated with lust. Bucky knew Steve loved it when he got dominating. One of these days, he was going to break out the really kinky shit on Steve. He’d been having dreams of the blond wearing frilly pink lingerie, of him pulling him on his lap and spanking him until his ass matched. But he knew they should talk about it first, and Steve seemed conflicted recently. 

“And what if I do?” Steve pushed.

Bucky grabbed the back of the chair on either side of Steve’s shoulders, making him jump. He moved his face closer to Steve’s, until their noses were almost touching. “Then I’m going to take it,” he growled.

Steve closed the distance between them, sucking on Bucky’s lower lip and then licking into his mouth, a little slutty. Bucky was bent down so their heads were even, and Steve put his hands on the brunet’s waist. 

Bucky stood before things could go any further. “How many guesses do I get?”

Steve squirmed, grinding down on the toy inside him. “One.”

Bucky hissed. “Do I get any hints?”

“I’m having a  _ blast, _ ” Steve told him, punctuating the sentence with a breathy little gasp.

Bucky smirked, lifting up his leg to put his booted heel on the gap in between Steve’s thighs on the chair. Steve was hard in his jeans, and Bucky balanced his heel on the chair, pressing the toe of his boot down onto Steve’s crotch the slightest bit. Steve gasped. “You made it too easy. Cherry bomb.”

The cherry bomb was Steve’s second favourite butt plug. It was cherry red, like the name suggested, and shaped like a teardrop, with the added sensation of an artificial cock head at the tip.

Steve grinned sloppily. “Wrong. Grenade.”

The grenade was just a little shorter, but about the same in width; it was bright blue and what it lacked in length it made up for in texture with ribbed protrusions similar to that of a hand grenade. 

Bucky groaned and dropped his foot back to the floor. “Ugh. Fine, how do you want me?” 

Steve stood, and as close as they were, his flat abdomen pressed against Bucky’s rounded one. “All fours, honey,” he instructed, bringing his arms up around Bucky’s neck and kissing the tip of Bucky’s nose.

He pulled back to get some lube, and Bucky went into the bedroom and took his pants and boxers off, kneeling on the bed. 

Steve came in behind him and whistled. “Fuck, look at your ass. It’s a wonder I didn’t do this months ago.”

Bucky scoffed. “Don’t know if you can handle me. I’m a needy bottom.” 

Steve chuckled. “I think I’m up to the task.” 

Bucky drew in a quick breath when he felt Steve’s tongue inside his ass. “Shit!” he exclaimed, falling forward and arching his back to offer Steve a better angle. 

Steve grabbed his ass with both hands, spreading him and licking further inside. He pulled his tongue out, and Bucky whined, but it was replaced a moment later with his lubed fingers. He stuck two in to start off with, and Bucky hissed. 

“Sorry, honey, gotta get you ready for me.” While Bucky’s dick might have been just the slightest bit longer, Steve’s was certainly girthier. Bucky had wrapped his lips around it and had it down his throat often enough to get used to its thickness, but he’d never had it in his ass before.

“Just go slow,” he cautioned.

Steve tapped his ass, and Bucky could feel his stomach ripple with the motion. He still had his shirt on, but he felt so exposed and vulnerable like this, his belly in all of its 264 pound glory hanging down and his fat ass presented to Steve. “Of course, Bucky. You need me to go slower, you just let me know.” He worked in a third finger, and a moment later, Bucky felt his pink slip in as well. He let Bucky adjust for a moment, then crooked them in further.

“You wanna just stick your whole goddamn arm in while you’re down there?” Bucky muttered sarcastically over his shoulder, hoping that if Steve did indeed want to, he’d save it for another time.

Steve laughed in response. “Not today. Feel free to fist me if you want, though.” Bucky filed that away in his mind for next time.” He pulled out his hand, and Bucky felt nervous for a moment. Then he felt the head of Steve’s cock nudge his entrance. “Ready?”

He swallowed, then nodded. Steve braced himself with his hands on both sides of Bucky’s chunky waist, and eased himself in, inch by inch. Just as Bucky thought it would never end, Steve bottomed out, balls flush to Bucky’s ass. 

“And you really like this?” Bucky grunted. 

“Wiggle your ass around a little,” Steve suggested.

Bucky arched more, and Steve’s dick moved inside him, nudging at his prostate. He cried out and sank down against Steve, getting a better angle and fucking himself backward.

After a moment, Steve started to move in tangent with him, thrusting his hips forward in sharp little bursts that had Bucky sweating and getting hard. “Fuck, Bucky, you feel so tight,  _ God, _ ” Steve groaned.

“You still… have that toy in?” Bucky gasped. 

Steve moaned an affirmative, stroking down Bucky’s back. “ _ Yes _ . Shit. ‘Ve never fucked on both ends before.”

“That’s because you joined the military instead of going to college,” Bucky joked, circling his asshole in little motions around Steve’s prick. 

Steve chuckled, though it turned to another moan halfway. He slapped Bucky’s ass a little, but it was more of a tap. “Fuck. I’m getting close.”

Bucky wasn’t quite there yet, but he braced himself, balling his fists into the sheets. “Okay.” He wished for a moment Steve had used a condom. He hated the feeling of come in his ass, especially when he was loose. “You mind…”

“You want me to pull out?” Steve asked, voice jolted a bit by the motion.

“Yes, baby,” Bucky responded immediately, before remembering that he was supposed to bottom. Well, it wasn’t like Steve had said that he wanted to be in control, just that he wanted to top. Steve seemed to relax, though, easing some of the stiffness as he gently pulled out of Bucky’s ass. Bucky turned over to watch him come, and Steve pumped his cock into his own fist. Bucky bent down his head, wordlessly asking to swallow him, and Steve moved his fist away so Bucky could cover his cock with his mouth. Steve bucked up once, and then his seed was all over Bucky’s tongue. He swallowed before sitting back up.

Steve nodded down to his own cock where it was sticking up and resting against the underside of his belly. “Return the favour?” he asked.

Bucky nodded and leaned back on the pillows. Steve put his head between his thighs, making the soft humming sound he always made when giving head. Each time he bobbed up, his forehead brushed against Bucky’s underbelly. It would’ve been embarrassing, but nothing could overpower the feeling of Steve’s tongue curling around his shaft. He came a moment later, and Steve swallowed, too, before coming up to give him a salty kiss. 

They broke away, sweatily panting and laying side by side on the bed, catching their breath. 

“So how’d you like bottoming?”

“For you? Anything,” Bucky admitted. “But I prefer it with me on top.”

“Me, too,” Steve responded, rolling on his side to kiss Bucky’s cheek before falling asleep with one arm slung over Bucky’s stomach. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to switch back and forth between Steve/Bucky’s POV and Carol/Maria’s POV in this story, but I thought it might be too intrusive, so this story will be mostly about Steve and Bucky with some carbeau in the background, and I’ll be writing a small one-shot that goes along with this from Carol’s point of view, including wg and their adoption and fun stuff like that.


	3. Steve POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve puts on something lacey, and Bucky really enjoys it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of feminization, spanking, and daddy kink in this chapter. Don’t eat dead bird if it ain’t your thing guys

It was almost warm enough in mid-July for Steve to trade his jeans in for shorts. Still, when a large cloud would pass over the sun, the shade was chilly enough for him to shiver and huddle against Bucky’s side. 

Bucky chuckled and wrapped an arm around him, continuing to work on tagging Scarecrow and Toto. “Guess it’s not warm enough for those shorts, huh?” 

They were the only pants Steve had brought from Wakanda, and he knew his ass looked spectacular in them. He frowned at the thought of not being able to wear them frequently. “Sure it is. I don’t need warm clothes, I have you.” Bucky put out enough heat for the two of them. He almost always slept entirely naked, and throughout the night Steve found himself shedding his own clothes in favour of wrapping himself around his human body pillow. 

Bucky just turned his head and kissed Steve’s neck above his collarbone. Steve shrunk away from the kiss. “Stop! Your beard tickles.”

Bucky smirked wickedly. “So put on a scarf.” 

Steve squirmed a little, trying to think of a good segue. He was wearing something under his clothes, something he’d never worn before. He was hoping Bucky might see a strap or a hem poking out from under his clothes and it would inspire him to hold Steve against a wall. It was a fantasy Steve’d had for a while, and the concept had been growing in his mind. 

Last Saturday, Bucky had taken the jeep to a town far away to talk to someone about selling wool. Carol and Maria invited him to go shopping with them at the mall, and Steve didn’t want to pass up the opportunity. In preparation for Monica’s arrival, they were going to buy some toys. There was a Victoria’s Secret at the mall, and Steve stood for two full minutes in front of the window display, debating as to whether he should go in or not. 

_ What the heck. We’re together, and we’re supposed to let each other know about our needs, right? _

He knew Bucky wouldn’t make fun of him if he confessed what he wanted. That wasn’t what he was afraid of. Actually, he thought he might like Bucky to make fun of him a little. 

_ What’s this, baby? _ He could picture him asking, pulling on a strap peeking over the top of his shorts.  _ These are for girls. You want me to call you my girl, Steve? Sit you on my lap and touch your pretty tits until you get wet? _

The thought burned through Steve with shame and arousal. He didn’t know how to bring it up, how to articulate this specific desire. There was something within him, probably left over from when his Mom used to take him to mass as a child, that made him feel guilty for getting what he wanted. It wasn’t that he was worried what his Ma would think; he thought of her often, and he was sure she’d be proud of him. She’d love Iceland. She’d love the sheep, and their house. She’d befriend Bucky and chat with Carol and Maria. She’d be able to answer all their questions about Monica, and she’d love the weather. She’d been a fiercely optimistic woman, kind and giving to everyone else in her life. They’d been dirt poor growing up, but Steve hadn’t wanted for anything. He didn’t realize until he was older how much Sarah had given up for him. She’d gone hungry so he could have dinner; taken second extra shifts at work so she could afford the tuition for Steve’s catholic school. Steve’s code on happiness had been built on Sarah’s shoulders. 

Steve remembered one afternoon when she woke up after a double shift. He’d gotten home from school with a black eye, and she’d just sighed and given him the ice pack. After the swelling went down, she picked up the keys to her car.  _ Let’s have an us day. _

They drove and drove until they stumbled on a carnival in Virginia, and they went on the rides and she bought him ice cream- chocolate mint.

He’d licked the cone while sitting with her on a park bench across the carousel. She didn’t have enough money to buy herself a cone, too.  _ Here,  _ Steve had said, offering his cone over to her.  _ You should have some, too. _

_ Oh, don’t worry about me, Stevie, you just enjoy. I’m having fun enough just watching you. _

He’d started to cry. He couldn’t finish his ice cream; he didn’t want it anymore. Sarah was entirely selfless, always going without so others could enjoy themselves. After she died, Steve lived a large part of his life believing that happiness only came from depriving yourself from pleasure. 

But then Bucky had shown him that he could be good and happy. Bucky frequently acted selflessly- Steve had witnessed so many acts of kindness firsthand, and he’d spent 14 years in prison so that his friends could go free, after all. But he didn’t deny himself pleasure either. He’d reach for a fourth serving of dessert as often as he wanted, and the universe seemed to reward his hedonism kindly. They’d traveled such different paths, and still they ended up here, in paradise, together. 

So Steve was doing his very best to cast away the thoughts of martyrdom and sacrifice and accept that he could be good and get what he wanted, too. One thing he knew for sure is that he was going to be very, very good for Bucky. And what he currently wanted might involve Bucky telling him how pretty he looked in lacey underwear. 

“...Steve?” he heard Bucky ask, and realized he’d been calling his name.

“Hm? Sorry.”

“That’s okay. Could you pass me the tag?” He pointed to where the yellow tags were laying in the toolbox on the floor. 

Steve crouched down to retrieve the little piece of plastic, and he heard Bucky inhale sharply. He spun around. “What?”

Bucky’s face was pink, and his eyes were fixed on Steve’s waist. He stepped forward into Steve’s space, then reached down and hooked his thumb through the band of Steve’s underwear.

Steve looked down and blushed. “Oh, that. I, um, thought you might like them. I can take it off. It’s dumb--”

“No,” Bucky growled, interrupting him. Steve met his eyes in shock. “I mean, no,” Bucky added, more softly. “Don’t take them off. I like it.”

Steve blushed deeper, looking away, over Bucky’s shoulder. “I have a matching top, too,” he muttered.

Bucky took his hand firmly and started walking briskly out of the enclosure and to the path toward their house.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked, but Bucky didn’t stop.

Once they were inside, Bucky pushed Steve down onto the sofa and straddled his waist. “Are you wearing it now?” he asked, his voice rough. Steve could see that his pupils were blown wide, his smokey blue iris reduced to a ring. 

“What?” he stammered.

Bucky began fussing with his shirt, a simple button down. “The top. Are you…” He answered his own question when he got the first few buttons undone, fingers clumsy with hurry. He gasped gently, moving the collar of Steve’s shirt away until it revealed the bralette he wore. It was lacey and strappy, baby pink with roses woven into the pattern. The cups of the bra were transparent, doing nothing to hide his nipples. Bucky moved his hand over the bralette softly, his thumb whispering over the seam of the bra. 

“I got it last weekend with Maria,” Steve rambled, feeling the need to fill the silence. “She saw me looking at the display, and she asked me if I wanted to go in. We looked at some of the different sets, but I liked this one. She-- she helped me go into the changing room and find one that fits. It doesn’t, really, but it’s--”

Bucky interrupted him again by kissing him. It was different than usual; Bucky took Steve’s chin with his hand, angling him how he wanted. From the first touch he had control, kissing Steve with an insistent fury and licking into his mouth. He pulled back, still holding Steve’s chin. “It’s perfect.” 

“Really? Are you sure? It’s not too--” 

“No, honey, really, you look so good.” Bucky sat up again and continued undoing the rest of the buttons. Once he had them undone, Steve leaned forward so he could take the shirt off completely. He felt bare and a little shy; the fire hadn’t been lit in weeks, and it was a little colder inside than out. He shivered a little, the air cold on his shoulders. He felt more exposed than if he’d not worn the bralette at all, but like this he felt like his chest was on full display. Bucky moved his legs to the side and guided Steve until he stood, then undid his fly so he could step out of his shorts. Steve stood next to the couch, aware of how the panties were doing nothing to contain his erection. Bucky held his hand and spun him around so he could see him from behind. Steve took a shaky breath, waiting for Bucky to speak. He wished he would tease him, a little, tell him he shouldn’t wear things like this. He was sure that Bucky wouldn’t presume to be so mean without Steve mentioning it, and he didn’t know how to say  _ hey, it turns me on when I wear lingerie meant for girls and you tell me degrading things; could you do that, please? _ He knew that Bucky would never make him feel uncomfortable, but god, how he wanted to. 

“Tell me what you want, honey,” Bucky said, speaking to his back. 

Steve turned around, and Bucky moved his hands to his waist as he stood. He was blushing furiously, flush spread from the tips of his ears down to his chest in patches, and he felt a little like he might cry. “I can’t… I feel…”

“Hey, what’s the matter?” Bucky spread his thighs to make room for his lap and patted his knee. Steve took a seat a little awkwardly, perching until Bucky wrapped an arm around his waist to give him stability. “You’re safe with me.”

“I know I am. I just… I don’t know how to ask.”

“Whatever you want, it’s okay, you know that, right?”

Steve nodded. 

“Okay, well, you look very nice. Do you want this?” Steve nodded emphatically. “Do you want to be pretty for me, honey? Do you want to be my baby?” 

“Yes,” Steve replied, but he didn’t know how to say that he wanted  _ more _ . He’d been hoping that Bucky might know instinctively, maybe he might want the same things, and it would just be able to progress the way Steve dreamed. But as perfect as his life with Bucky was, it was harder than dreams. He needed to express himself if he wanted Bucky to understand. “I want… I think I might want you to spank me,” he whispered the last part, still unsure of how Bucky would respond.

He said nothing for a moment, looking into Steve’s eyes as he gently smoothed Steve’s hair with one hand and kept him steady with the other. “Okay,” he said at last. “Do you want me to spank you because you’ve been bad?”

Steve stilled instantly and felt his eyes grow wide. “No,” he said quickly. He’d never been spanked as a child. The idea of Sarah raising a hand against him was preposterous to even think of, and he wasn’t sure it was punishment he wanted.  

“Okay, that’s alright. Just because it feels nice?” 

Steve nodded, and stood from Bucky’s lap. Bucky lead him to the bed and sat first, leaning back on his hands a little. It would be difficult to situate himself as Bucky’s gut didn’t leave much room for else, but the bed offered extra surface area and he was certain the struggle would be worth it. Before he could move, Bucky commanded him and Steve relaxed. “Lay across me, belly down.” 

Steve folded his arms and turned his head to the left, facing the door. Once he was comfortable, Bucky placed a hand on his back. Steve jumped, and the brunet began to rub soothing circles. 

“You look so pretty, baby, so nice for me. I love it when you dress up, honey. This colour’s very nice on you.” He moved the back of Steve’s underwear down over his ass, and he skimmed his thumb over the dimples at the base of Steve’s spine. “You can wear this whenever you want. Okay, ready, sweetheart?”

Steve took in a deep breath. He’d closed his eyes while Bucky was talking, and he still felt calm enough to begin. “Yes.”

The first slap shocked him, but it didn’t hurt; the motion jolted him forward a little on Bucky’s lap, but Bucky’s right arm on his shoulders kept him anchored. Bucky’s soft belly was pressing into his side, and he felt peaceful and protected. Bucky soothed the area where he’d hit him, and Steve could imagine it must be pinking up. He removed his hand, and Steve prepared himself for the second blow. The next one stung more, the sharp noise ringing out in the silence of the cottage. Bucky was breathing hard, a little, from arousal or the effort. Steve continued to lay still, not letting himself tense up. As Bucky continued to hit every few moments, he could feel himself get harder, dick trapped between his own body and Bucky’s legs.

Near the sixth hit, his ass was really starting to smart. Bucky had shifted a little after the fourth, changing positions for a better angle, and the heel of his hand and fingers had landed on Steve’s sensitive skin in such a way that had caught his breath in his throat. He didn’t really feel like he was in the room; his head was light and distant. He was breathing shakily, and he felt tingles up and down his spine. Bucky hit him a seventh time and he let out a whine, dick really starting to get painfully hard. 

“Roll over,” he heard Bucky instruct, and his voice was breathless too. 

Steve rolled onto his back and moved his hips off Bucky so he was laying on the bed with Bucky sitting next to him. Bucky leaned down to kiss his his waist, and he moved his lips further down his happy trail to nose at the panties. Steve’s precome had already spread on the front of them, turning the light pink darker. Steve whimpered again, tangling his hands in Bucky’s short hair. It was getting longer, almost enough for the top to reach his ears. “Yes,” he moaned. He felt hot all over, and a little giddy. His skin felt overly sensitive, and every time Bucky touched him it felt as if fireworks were exploding under his flesh. 

Bucky moved the waistband down with his teeth, and Steve felt his erection spring free. Bucky licked a stripe up the vein on the underside, and then moved further down to tongue Steve’s taint. He was getting closer to Steve’s asshole, then he moved away to kiss Steve’s thighs instead.

“Daddy, please,” Steve complained, before he’d quite heard himself. He didn’t realize what he’d said until Bucky stilled completely. 

Bucky met his eyes, then rose to a sitting position between Steve’s legs. “What?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean--”

Bucky came up to lay next to Steve, clasping his left hand on the bed as he kissed his cheek. “Don’t be sorry. It’s okay, Steve. You should have said that’s what you wanted.”

Steve felt a tear escape his eye. “I didn’t know how.”

Bucky just brushed it away, not letting it bother him. “All you had to do was say it, honey. Just tell me. Are you afraid I’ll laugh at you?”

Steve shook his head.

“What’s the matter, then?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’m worried you’ll think I’m gross.”

“Of course not. This isn’t gross, sweetheart. It’s precious. You know how fucking beautiful you look there? This is the best gift you could’ve given me. I hardly feel worthy of you, baby boy, so pretty for me.”

Steve beamed at being called  _ baby boy _ . It was so close to what they’d had before, but just different enough to leave him wanting. “I love you.”

Bucky kissed him on the lips. “I love you too.”

Bucky blew Steve, and then he fucked him. While he was prepping him, he’d worked four fingers in, and Steve almost asked him to slip in the fifth, but he thought they might have had enough excitement for one afternoon. 

After Bucky came, he pulled out of him so they were lying on their backs, sideways across the bed. Bucky’s stomach growled, and Steve checked his the time on his phone. “It’s 6. I didn’t make anything for dinner.”

Bucky sat up. “Maybe I should put my little housewife to work instead of fucking him,” he commented lightly before swatting Steve’s thigh and standing up. Steve watched him walk to the kitchen, and even though he was well-fucked and spent, his dick gave a half-hearted twitch at being referred to as a housewife.

He sat up and changed out of his wet underwear, putting on regular boxers with jeans and a sweater.

“Do you want to go out to dinner?” Bucky asked when Steve came out of the bedroom. 

“Where?” There were a couple of restaurants around them; a pizzeria near the North coast and a sandwich shop next to a gas station a couple dozen miles West. 

“Are you in the mood for pizza?”

“Sure, but it’s a bit of a drive.”

Bucky shrugged and opened the fridge, pulling out two cups of yogurt. “So we’ll have a snack for the drive.”

The sun had another few hours before it set, and they got a good view of it as they drove North. Bucky drove, and Steve sat gingerly in the passenger seat, careful of his tender behind. He kept sneaking glances over to where Bucky’s belly was almost brushing the steering wheel. Ever since he’d asked Steve not to get ice cream, it seemed that he’d been eating less; or, at least, not eating as much as he could at every meal. Steve was sure that he hadn’t lost any weight, not that he could trick him into getting on the scale again to check. Every time they’d made love in the last month, that three-digit number raced through Steve’s mind. He’d been making dinner when his phone chimed, the unopened notification proudly announcing 264. He thought Bucky might be trying to lose weight, and there never seemed to be a good time to bring up the topic. 

But Steve wanted things to be like they were in Wakanda, when Bucky had carelessly eaten enough food to grow out of his Wakandan clothes. And if their latest activities had taught him anything, Steve was warming up to the idea that all he had to do to get what he wanted was ask. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was late! Sometimes ya gotta just forget your responsibilities and play the Sims amiright


	4. Bucky POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky takes Steve to get pizza and they talk about things. There’s some tension at first, but it ends on a sweet (ha ha) note.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consensual choking in this chapter ^-^

Neither of them spoke the entire way to the restaurant. They went inside, and Steve picked their table while Bucky ordered. Bucky took his seat in the chair opposite Steve. He preferred booths, but he knew that Steve got nervous if he couldn’t pick a table with a tactical advantage. 

“Did you order a large?” Steve asked.

Bucky shrugged. “Medium.”

“You feelin’ okay?”

Bucky shifted nervously. “Sure, why?”

“Seem like you lost your appetite, s’all.”

Bucky looked outside the large window, where a mourning dove was picking at cold fries outside in the twilight. “Maybe I should.”

“Buck.”

“Hm?” Bucky turned to meet Steve’s eyes. He seemed agitated.

“We need to talk,” Steve said, and immediately Bucky panicked. 

“I know, I’ve gained weight, but I’m going to lose it--” he began.

Steve interrupted. “What? No, why?”

Bucky froze. “I thought you wanted me to.”

“No, I don’t want you to.” Steve took Bucky’s hand over the table. “I thought we talked about this. I like you as you are, I don’t want…” he struggled for words.

“When?”

“What?”

Bucky drew his brows together. He felt as if there was a barrier between them. It seemed difficult to communicate tonight- normally, it was so easy for him to say what was on his mind. “When did we talk about my… about…”

Steve saved him from finishing his sentence with a small laugh, although it seemed more nervous than genuine. “At the airport, remember?” 

“Yeah, but you said you were okay with me at that size, not that… I don’t want to get. Fuck, Steve, you’re so pretty. I don’t want to look like a slob next to you.” 

Steve sat back in his chair. “I don’t want you to  _ worry  _ about it, is the thing. Are you comfortable with the way you look, right now? Without worrying about what I think.”

Bucky shrugged. “Yeah. Sure.” He kept warm in the cold weather. He could eat as much pasta as he wanted. He was strong enough to work the farm, pick up the rams and move the hay bales. 

Steve nodded. “Okay, good. Then I love you at this size. You’re perfect. And if you gain more weight, that’s okay too.”

Bucky looked down at his hands. He’d painted his nails out of boredom the either day. Maria left a bottle of polish at their place by accident, and he’d noticed it was a particular colour of periwinkle that matched his eyes. He’d sent her a picture, and she’d responded with heart-eye emojis, and told him to keep the bottle. It had started to chip. “I don’t want you to see me any different. If I’m fat.”

Steve looked into Bucky’s eyes with an expression he couldn’t gauge. They were so focused on each other that Bucky could see his own reflection, looking dejected and wide. “Bucky. I adore you. I swear to you, I will never look at you differently. I never have, have I?” Bucky shook his head. “I didn’t judge you when I was your parole officer. I didn’t treat you differently when we stole millions of diamonds from Thanos. I don’t see you different if we’re making love, or if you’re eating yoghurt and you have some in your beard, or if you smell bad after a day of sweating. I’ll look at you the same if you lose 70 pounds, or gain 100, because I love you. All I see is you. You’re my Bucky. I feel like it burns me up, sometimes. I love you so much I can hardly breathe. All my life, I’ve been searching for direction, for something higher, and it was all calling me here, to you. You’re my life and my meaning and everything. I feel like I’ve had this hole inside me, all my life, and now it’s finally been filled.”

He said it with absolute conviction. There wasn’t a single moment of hesitance in his eyes. 

But Bucky felt hesitation within himself. It wasn’t that he didn’t love Steve in return; he did, so much. He made him feel like no one ever had, and every word he’d said was true. He just didn’t know why he felt so scared.

Steve spoke again, when Bucky didn’t respond. He knew he should- Steve had a tendency to ramble on and get nervous if Bucky didn’t vocalize all his reactions, but he just couldn’t think of anything to say. “Listen. You know I love you at any size, yeah? But, it’s more than that, too. It kind of… turns me on.” He was blushing.

Bucky immediately perked up. Physical needs were so much more simple than emotional ones. “Wait, what?”

Steve blushed deeper, focusing on the salt on the table. “I didn’t want to say it before, because I didn’t want you to think that I cared more about some fetish than your body image.”

“Hang on. What do you mean,  _ fetish _ ?” Just when Bucky thought Steve couldn’t get any freakier. Damn, he should’ve known a repressed cop would be so kinky.

“You. Uh, gaining weight. I think it’s hot.” He rushed on before Bucky could speak again. “Some people are attracted to abs. I’m… not. I don’t know. I’ve always known it, I guess. And I’d still be attracted to you if you had a BMI less than 18. You’re just… predisposed to it, I guess?” Bucky must have visibly flinched, because Steve immediately switched his strategy. “I mean, you like eating food, and you like your body… I like watching you eating food, and I like your body, too. So it works out, right?”

Bucky paused for a moment, processing. “What about it exactly turns you on?”

“God,  _ everything, _ ” Steve answered enthusiastically. “I like it when your shirts are a little too small. Like when the buttons gap, or the seams pull. I like it when you eat too much and you get so full it’s hard for you to breathe. I like the way your belly feels. I like the way you look, all wide and sexy. I like that you eat when you’re happy, and you look happy. I like that you’re soft and warm in bed. I like how heavy you are when you roll over on me. I like your sweet tooth, and that you can’t get enough of ice cream. I like your stretch marks. I like your rolls. I like your double chin. I like-- do you need me to go on? Because I really can go on.”

Bucky didn’t. “So, it’s like, an emotional thing as well as a sexual one?”

Steve thought about it before he answered. “I guess. You could probably make some psycho-analystic deduction about it.” He laughed nervously again. Bucky wished he’d stop. “I guess I should’ve mentioned it earlier, huh?”

“Well, you live with a guy for four months, you expect him to bring it up.”

“I’m sorry. Really, Bucky. I didn’t mean for it to come across badly. I wasn’t trying to trick you, I swear. I just wanted this to have the best outcome possible.”

Bucky was a little shocked about how much forethought Steve had put into it. Usually, the blond had zero filter, saying everything that came into his head at any moment. It had surprised Bucky on so many occasions how frank Steve could be. But there was this whole aspect to him that he’d known nothing about, that he’d willingly been acting upon Bucky without his knowledge.

Steve went on. “Do you feel tricked? Because I don’t want you to feel tricked. Wait- that sounded bad. I don’t mean that you should feel how I want you to feel. I just want you to be okay with it. But if you’re not, that’s okay too.” 

Bucky could tell that Steve was trying to compensate for his silence, get on his side. It agitated him. He didn’t want to be coerced into agreement. 

The waitress arrived with their pizza. “N jóta!” she told them, and Steve thanked her in Icelandic. Most of the residents spoke basic English, but Steve enjoyed the chance to practice his Icelandic. 

Steve didn’t move to take a slice off the platter. Bucky didn’t either. He didn’t feel hungry anymore. 

Steve really started to look like he might freak out, and Bucky spoke. “So… you’d find it sexy if I ate, like, six slices of pizza?”

Steve nodded in relief. “Yes. Yeah. Of course, you don’t have to. I mean it. Your happiness is more important to me than anything I might want you to do,” he said, but all Bucky heard was  _ your happiness is more important to me than my happiness. _

_ Which is a ridiculous thought,  _ he added.  _ Our happiness should be equally important to each other in a relationship.  _ He wanted Steve to say  _ I love you, and I want you to do this. _

“Okay.” Bucky pulled a slice of pizza out and served it to Steve first, then pulled the largest slice onto his own plate. “I think we should work on communication.”

“Yes. Let’s do that,” Steve agreed. “Do you… have any suggestions?”

Bucky bit back the passive-aggressive thought on his tongue.  _ Maybe tell me if you have a giant secret you’ve hidden from me for months. _

_ No, _ he reminded himself.  _ That’s not a healthy way to deal with anger. You’re angry at Steve; that’s valid. Voice that anger in a productive way. _

“You tend to overthink a lot,” he started, picking pineapple off his pizza. Pineapple-and-ham was Steve’s favourite, but Bucky detested pineapple. “That’s okay. But you don’t have to suffocate alone, okay? If you’re freaking about something, don’t keep it to yourself. That just makes the problem worse, when it’s something we could talk out.”

Steve scrunched his face in frustration. “I don’t always want to bother you, though. If I think something’s dumb, I don’t want to bring it up.”

“But then you stress about it and it becomes a problem, honey,” Bucky explained. “I care about what you care about. If something’s bothering you- even if it’s something small, or something you’re sure you’re imagining- it’s better to bring it up than bury it down.”

“Okay.” Steve paused. “I feel like you’re being condescending.”

“What? Why?” Bucky was startled from cutting his pizza with a knife and fork. 

“You’re saying it’s ‘better to mention it than bury it’, and that’ll ‘make a problem’. You’re making me feel like me overthinking  _ is  _ a problem, and that you have to deal with the ‘burden’ of me saying it at all. That’s why I don’t.”

“Okay.” Bucky resumed cutting his pizza. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to convey that. I don’t think it’s a problem. It’s just the way you are.”

“I  _ know _ it’s the way I am. You don’t need to justify me overthinking. And don’t make it sound like I’m some close-minded person that won’t change myself. I know overthinking is a bad habit, and I’m trying to replace it with healthier ones.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky apologized again. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like you’re not improving yourself. Of course I don’t believe that.” He thought about his next words. Sometimes, they- both he and Steve- had a habit of saying things were okay unnecessarily. Sometimes Steve needed reassurance, but it got him into the habit of sounding condescending. Maybe they weren’t as good at communication as he thought- maybe he was good at talking at Steve and Steve was good at shoving all his thoughts down until they bubbled over. 

“I know,” Steve said, finally picking up his piece and eating it. “I know you don’t mean to hurt my feelings. And I know that if I don’t say anything about it when you do, I’m making it as much my fault as yours. I’ll work on it.”

Bucky smiled. “Me too.” And he felt a little better. Not entirely, but it was a start.

The first slice of pizza went down quicker than he expected. In the heat of conversation he’d forgotten how hungry he was, but it had cooled off enough for him to eat it without burning his tongue and he reached for a second slice in no time. 

Steve offered no reaction except to hand Bucky over his crust when he was done with his first slice. It was a habit they’d gotten into months ago, the first time they’d had pizza together. Steve admitted that he hated the crust but never wanted to waste it, and Bucky offered to eat it. Thinking back, Bucky could pick out at least one instance a day where Steve had gotten him to eat more. But instead of being mad, he considered Steve’s intentions behind it. He wasn’t trying to trick Bucky into some weird sexual situation he was uncomfortable with; Bucky knew that. And it wasn’t like Bucky wasn’t already doing a good enough job of overeating himself. Hell, he was already well on his way to fat-- if not firmly in that territory already-- when they’d met. His irritation at Steve’s secrecy faded away to a pleasant contentment in enjoying good food. He didn’t stop after three slices. Steve tapped out after his second- sliding the crust onto Bucky’s plate and pushing his chair away from the table to finish his local, artisanal soda. After the fourth slice, his waistband felt tight, but he wanted to really attempt to explore whatever this was. After all, how was he supposed to make a fair verdict on how he felt about it until he’d experienced it? 

So he overate intentionally, forcing himself to finish the fifth slice and take the last one.

By this time, Steve’s interest was clear; he’d been staring at Bucky’s mouth, and his pink blush had developed into a full rouge. His breath was coming out almost as choked as Bucky’s; he panted lightly as he shifted in his chair, adjusting around the full dome of his stomach. 

And after he’d finished all the pizza, he was uncomfortably full, and the waitress came to collect the tray and he ordered pie in bad Icelandic.

“I thought you didn’t like key lime pie,” Steve mentioned, breathlessly.

“I don’t. I ordered lemon,” Bucky responded.

Steve shook his head with a smile. “ _ Límóna  _ is lime, sweetheart.”

Bucky grunted and surreptitiously undid the button on his pants. “Then they oughta make it not sound like lemon.”

Steve tore his eyes away from Bucky’s face. “Ahh… what?”

Bucky laughed. “Nothing.” 

The pie arrived quickly, recently refrigerated, and both plates had a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Bucky frowned to Steve after the waitress had left. “Did I order two?”

Steve shrugged. “Guess so. I don’t really want mine though. We could get a box.”

Bucky pulled it over to his side of the table. “No use letting it melt on the way home.”

Steve looked positively  _ wrecked _ , and Bucky was seeing the upside of the situation. There was very little he wouldn’t do if Steve asked. The semantics of it might have been a bit convoluted, but when it came down to it, yeah. Eating six slices of deep dish pizza and two pieces of pie (even if it was key lime) a la mode wasn’t a hardship.

What was a hardship was getting into the jeep to drive back home. Steve offered, but Bucky didn’t trust him to keep his eyes on the road, the way he’d been staring at him. Once he sat in the driver’s seat, he was embarrassed to realize that his belly was fully resting against the wheel. He blushed and moved his hand to the side of the chair to adjust the position.

“Don’t,” Steve stopped him with a hand on his forearm. “I mean, unless you’re very uncomfortable…”

Bucky shrugged. “I can drive. I’m just a little… squished.”

Steve’s cheeks were positively scarlet. “Then, please.”

Bucky complied, turning the key in the ignition. The energy on the way back home was  _ miles  _ different from the way there, and Bucky couldn’t be more glad.

He wasn’t entirely glad of the state of the roads; the long stretch off the main highway that took them back to Myvatn lead them over a particularly rocky section that had Bucky’s belly jostling in his lap. By the time he parked next to the cottage, Steve was vibrating. 

He was all over Bucky the instant they were inside, kissing his neck and grinding on his hip, but Bucky had another idea the drive had given him. “We have any rocky road?” he asked. “All that vanilla was kind of boring.”

Steve’s eyes went wide, and he fetched the half gallon from the freezer. It wasn’t Ben and Jerry’s, but Bucky figured that was his own fault. 

“Oof, honey, not sure I can finish all that,” Bucky remarked. It was fun to show off for Steve, sure, but his stomach would absolutely murder him if he attempted to shove more than a few spoonfuls down his throat.

“That’s okay,” Steve assured him, his voice deep and rough with lust. Bucky took the carton and plopped right down on the far cushion of the sofa, not even bothering with the table. Steve took his customary place between his legs and began pulling Bucky’s pants down his hips.

It felt right, doing it like this. So long he’d hid his overeating in shame or excuses. Steve’s support of his body wasn’t enough; he needed to be  _ wanted _ , desired. Maybe it was fucked up that Steve wanted him fat, and maybe it was fucked up that he wanted to eat until it hurt. But their fucked up seemed to fit right into each other, like two factory-defect puzzle pieces.

His appetite surprised him again, and he realized that while he was thinking he’d managed to put a decent dent in the ice cream. Steve had begun rubbing his belly, and that was helping immensely, moving the digestion process along. He felt rather bare with his full gut hanging out and testing his shirt, too full to even suck in, but Steve’s blissed out expression calmed his anxiety. 

He shifted, sitting up a little more. The action made his shirt ride up, the fabric rolling above his belly button. Steve actually made a small whimper, his hands automatically moving to the bare skin. 

“Fuck, it’s hot in here,” Bucky complained, pausing from eating for a moment. The heat of the fireplace had caused the ice cream to melt significantly, and he was having trouble keeping it on the spoon. 

“Take your shirt off,” Steve suggested, completely transparent.

Bucky smirked and leaned forward. Steve took the carton and spoon out of his hands right away so his hands were free, and in a moment he was sitting in only his boxers. Steve’s eyes were fixed on Bucky’s chest. It had been a while since the brunet had dared to be shirtless in front of Steve; or at least, in such strong lightning. But Steve’s hand whispered over his body in reverence, and everything felt natural out in the open.

“How much is left?” Bucky asked, and Steve tipped the carton toward him in response. Less than half remained. “Fuck it,” Bucky muttered, taking the carton, but not the spoon. He lifted it to his lips and began to chug.

Right when he really thought he could drink another drop, he’d emptied the carton. He cast it to the ground, barely caring if it landed on its side (but their carpet was fairly expensive, and not a drop of ice cream dripped out). He panted for a moment, trying to lean back on the arm of the sofa and relieve some of the pressure. “God _ damn, _ baby,” he moaned. “Don’t think I’ve ever been this fuckin’ full in my life.”

Steve cupped his hands over the fullest part of Bucky’s gut, reshaping the flesh to let it go and watch it gently jiggle. “Mhm,” he agreed, his eyes glued to Bucky’s gut.

“Shit, that feels really good. Can you do that for a while?” He closed his eyes. Steve must’ve nodded, or either forgotten to respond entirely, but he continued to rub, kneading Bucky’s belly like a mound of dough. Bucky felt so full and  _ wide _ , larger than he’d ever been in his life. It was certainly true. Despite the recent plateau in his weight, the activities of the night and the indication that these habits might continue would certainly aid to him finding a new high every week. And he truly couldn’t bring himself to mind.

After a few minutes, he opened his eyes again and put one of his hands over Steve’s on his belly. “Alright, baby, that’s enough. Are you still sore from earlier, or--”

“Yeah, but I can do it,” Steve insisted, standing and ripping his jeans and boxers right off. “Can I ride you?”

Bucky chuckled, taking his boxers off (they’d left indentations in his skin, and he made a mental note for later that he’d have to upsize his wardrobe yet again). “Pretty sure that’s the only way we can do it, honey. Way too fuckin’ full to do it any other way.” 

Steve got out the lube and dumped it into his hand, working himself open before he could even ask. He kneeled low over Bucky’s thighs, and Bucky had to lift the underside of his belly with his forearm for Steve to line himself up properly.

“Fuck, daddy,” Steve murmured, using that word again. “You look amazing. 264 pounds, shit.”

Bucky froze. “You-- uh, you saw?”

Steve had the decency to look apologetic. “The scale was bluetooth connected to my phone. I, uh, couldn’t think of a good time to bring it up.”

Bucky chuckled, pulling Steve down onto him. “Well, I guess now’s a good a time as any. Not like it’s gonna stay like that for long.”

“So you wanna do it? You want to gain weight?” His speech was stuttered as he lowered himself on powerful thighs. He was still a little loose from earlier, and Bucky wanted to make sure he went easy- Steve’s ass must’ve been bruised pretty nicely- but the blond set up a furious pace, rocking his cock forward into Bucky’s fat underbelly. 

“Sure. I mean, I was before. What’s the difference in doing it on purpose?”

Steve stopped for a moment. “I’m serious. I don’t want you to be halfway on this. It’s your body. Wherever you draw the line, that’s a good place to be.”

“Okay.” Bucky started shifting his hips (as much as he could with about 60 pounds of gut and 200 pounds of boyfriend on top of him), and Steve got the idea and began moving again. “So, what’s an ideal weight for you? Just toss a number out there.”

Steve thought for a moment, concentration certainly impeded by the fact that Bucky’s dick began to brush over his prostate and his eyes were fluttering shut, precome leaking out of his head. “280? You can gain as much as you want. I’m not interested in you getting much bigger than 350, though. That’s not to say that you can’t, I-”

Bucky interrupted him before he went down a trail of ‘whatever you want is okay’. “I don’t want to get any bigger than 350, either. I probably wouldn’t want to deal with more than 320, honestly. And I’ll probably level out if I don’t force myself to gain as actively.”

“Right… level out…” Steve repeated, clearly not focusing on the words at all. Bucky smirked and grabbed onto his waist, manhandling him a bit rougher and fucking him down. Steve went limp, allowing himself to be thrashed on Bucky’s cock. “Daddy… daddy, daddy, daddy,” he muttered. Bucky was sure he wasn’t even aware he was saying it.

“Yes, my good baby boy,” he whispered. Steve was spasming in irregular movements, and he knew he wasn’t far from finishing. In a moment of inspiration, he put his left hand around Steve’s throat, clamping down at the sides to restrict blood flow, but not enough to hinder his breathing. Steve’s eyes went wide, but he didn’t protest. Instead, his eyes rolled back and he came with an unintelligible cry that might’ve been Bucky’s name. His come painted the underside of Bucky’s belly, and a moment later he came too, filling Steve’s ass for the second time that day. 

Steve pulled back to collapse against the other side of the couch. Bucky recovered first, huffing a little around his gut as he pulled himself up by the back of the couch. He moved over to Steve to kiss him, a little sloppily, but he didn’t care. 

“Holy shit,” Steve moaned. Sweat stuck his pretty hair down onto his forehead, and he looked about as limp and spent as Bucky felt. “No lie, that was the best sex of my life. Not that every time we do it isn’t great,” he added. “But--”

“I agree,” Bucky said, kissing the crown of his head. “You’re right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record pineapple on pizza is DISGUSTING and if y’all waste the crust you’re a monster. Save the trash, feed it to your lover, that’s what I say.


	5. Steve POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve cooks Bucky breakfast and then they have sexytime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh sorry this is late! My wifi was down last week T_T   
> Also, I decided to make this the last chapter because I’m getting revved up for another fic I have planned, a Handler stucky AU. The carol x maria fic will also be going up this week!

Steve turned over in the bed, and he felt Bucky roll over behind him, his belly fitting perfectly in the concave space of Steve’s back. 

“You awake?” Bucky whispered.

“Mhm,” Steve responded sleepily, although he wasn’t entirely, yet.

Bucky snuggled a little closer, cupping his top arm over Steve’s chest. He tucked his chin over Steve’s shoulder, beard tickling his cheek as he whispered. “You ready to get out of bed?”

“Cold,” Steve whined, shrinking further under the covers.

Bucky chuckled and began to rise. He slapped Steve lightly on the flank, letting him bundle the comforter and sheets around himself. “That’s why one of us has to start the fire.” 

Steve listened to the sound of Bucky stoking the cinders of last night’s fire, placing new logs in the fireplace and sparking the kindling. They’d needed to light the fire more often as the summer ended and September began, and it seemed as if it might become a permanent necessity. 

After the crackle of the flames sounded large enough to produce actual heat, Steve gathered the blankets around himself and went into the kitchen. He cast a glance at Bucky reclining on the sofa, browsing something on his phone. “Are you cooking breakfast?”

Bucky shrugged. “I lit the fire. You cook.”

He was as transparent as glass, and Steve loved it. He came up behind him and bent down as Bucky craned his neck back to meet him. “Good morning,” he said after they’d kissed. 

“Good morning, Mr. Rogers,” Bucky returned. “How did we sleep?” 

“Very well, Mr. Barnes.” Bucky liked to poke fun at Steve’s formality, but Steve felt better knowing that he was liked as well as loved. He rummaged through the fridge, selecting something to cook. “What do we feel like?” 

“I dunno, something sweet?”

Suddenly, Steve had an idea. 

_ On his tenth birthday, he had woken up and the entire apartment was filled with the scent of cinnamon. He’d gone into the kitchen to see Sarah fussing with a piping bag full of icing. He must have made some noise for Sarah to hear, because she spun around with a bright smile on his face. “Good morning- happy birthday, Stevie!” She’d presented him with a cinnamon roll nearly the size of his head. He sat at the little table in the middle of the kitchen, bathed in the July sun. He felt bad eating the whole thing and asked if she wanted to split it, but his Ma insisted it was all his. _

_ The first bite was heavenly, and Steve was certain she’d gone down to the corner bakery to get it. Treats there were delicious, but often expensive. Steve had never eaten anything from there himself, but at school, some of his richer friends would take out carefully wrapped packages of flaky pastry and large, gooey cookies to flaunt to the rest of the table.  _

_ “Ma, how’d you afford this?” he’d asked. _

_ A grin had split across her face. “I didn’t buy it, sweetheart, I made it.” Many times afterward she’d told him that it was the best compliment she could have received. To save money, Sarah would often bake bread herself, and about a month before she’d gotten the idea and had begun saving flour and cinnamon to bake it herself, and had procured the recipe from the library. _

_ Steve didn’t get any other presents that year, but it was one of his favourite birthdays by far. _

“Can you wait an hour or two? I wanna try something,” Steve asked, taking out his phone and googling cinnamon roll recipes. 

“Sure, but I’ll work up an appetite,” Bucky warned him. 

Steve was counting on it. He found a recipe with ingredients they already had and didn’t look too complicated. The recipe made 8 single-serving rolls, but when Steve separated the square of dough into strips, he opted to make two regular sized rolls and combine the remaining dough into one giant roll. He spread the cinnamon filling on each strip and rolled them up, setting them in the oven and adding an extra five minutes for Bucky’s monstrous roll to cook the whole way through.

Twenty-five minutes later, his two rolls were cooling on top of the stove, and the third look perfectly-golden brown. “Okay, it’s ready,” Steve called, setting the island with dishes.

Bucky took his seat and Steve placed the cinnamon roll before him. In retrospect, the cinnamon roll from Steve’s birthday might have seemed bigger in his memory, but the one before Bucky had risen to nearly a foot in diameter. 

“Holy shit, Steve,” Bucky exclaimed with a little laugh. “You made… uh, an absolute unit of a cinnamon roll. How many is this?”

“Six,” Steve responded pleasantly. “You said you’d have an appetite,” he remarked, pouring Bucky a large glass of milk.

Bucky agreed with a grunt, taking a big sip before he began to eat. Steve hadn’t provided any utensils, half hoping Bucky might pick it up and bite into it like a hamburger. Instead, Bucky found the end of the curl and began to peel it, eating the sugary strips like a kid. He dropped the curl into his mouth from above, slapping a little bit of frosting into his lips in the process. 

Steve laughed and leaned over the table to kiss it from his face. “Good?” he asked.

“Mm, I like the Pillsbury kind better,” Bucky joked, and Steve slapped him lightly on the shoulder. “I’m just kidding. This is amazing, baby. Keep the recipe.”

Steve had to admit that it was very good; it was filling without being too heavy. The sweetness of the icing wasn’t too overbearing that the spice of the cinnamon went unnoticed, and the bread was warm and moist without being soggy.

After Bucky had unwrapped almost half of the roll, he began to slow down. “Fuck, Steve. My eyes might be bigger than my stomach.”

Steve snorted. “Impossible. I haven’t seen you leave anything unfinished in months.”

Bucky sat back, adjusting the waistband of his sweats. Even his pajamas were getting tight again as he crept closer to 300. “Ugh, I dunno. This might best me yet. It’s not that I don’t want to finish it-- it’s  _ so  _ good-- it’s just a lot of the same, ya know?”

“Hm.” Steve turned to the fridge. “We have some bacon left over from the other day. Want it cold?”

Bucky huffed. “I doubt more food is the solution here, but sure. Why not.” Steve got him the strips from the fridge, and the brunet ate them before continuing with his roll. “The salt and the sweet go really well together,” he commented.

“I’ll be sure to make bacon with it next time,” Steve made a mental note for later. He watched Bucky struggle, even though he put up a valiant effort. Steve stood, offering an arm. “You’re not gonna be able to finish it like that. Let’s get you to the couch, spread out a little, yeah?” 

Bucky took his arm, grabbing the plate with his other hand. With a large tug, Steve managed to help him up, and the ex-con panted a little while he navigated to the living room. He sat sideways on the couch, propping the plate on the dome of his belly. As reclined as he was, he barely needed to grip the edge of the plate for it to stay balanced. Steve sat between his knees, spying how Bucky’s t-shirt had ridden up to just below his belly button, shadow evident in the straining fabric. He splayed his hand on Bucky’s belly, then, feeling how tight it was, began to rub his fingers over the sides.

“Mm,” Bucky groaned. “Yeah, keep doing that. Feels good. Oof.” For all his complaining about being full, he continued to eat, and soon only the gooey center of the roll remained. He popped it in his mouth and then sucked his fingers free of frosting. Steve continued to rub his tummy, alternating between large circles on the sides and concentrated little massages near the top. “Thank you, baby, that was excellent. Although, 6 might have been overkill,” he protested.

Steve grabbed one of his love handles and shook a little, watching his flesh ripple. “Next time, I’ll make you eat 7,” he joked. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, though. Bucky’s appetite had grown significantly in the last month, and it looked like things might continue in that trend, at least until their previous marker of 320.  _ He might even be close to 280 now, _ Steve pondered, judging the heft of Bucky’s gut with his palm.

“God, make those often enough and I’ll really get huge,” Bucky moaned.

Steve barked out a laugh. “What makes you think you’re not already there?”

“Maybe, but I carry it well,” Bucky insisted, patting his belly. 

“Oh, that’s certainly true,” Steve agreed, leaning up to kiss him. Bucky huffed when Steve accidentally put a little too much pressure on his tender stomach, but he smiled into the kiss anyway. “Whattya think, too full to fool around?” Steve asked with a devilish smile. 

“Ugh. Yes. But when did that ever make a difference?” Bucky grunted, sitting up a little more.

“Ha ha. But seriously, I don’t want to hurt you. We can just cuddle. We don’t always have to fuck,” he added.

“I know. But I like it so much.” 

Steve grinned. “Yeah, me too. Want me to ride you?”

Bucky nodded, and Steve helped him peel down his sweatpants. They’d left indentations on his chunky hips, and his boxers looked like they were getting tight too. “I’ll have to wear 3XL soon,” Bucky murmured. “Think that means I’m fat now?”

“Honey, you’ve been fat since I met you.”

“Nuh-uh, I was husky then.  _ This _ is fat,” he punctuated his statement by grabbing the side of his gut and wobbling it as Steve had earlier. Steve couldn’t continue their banter for anything in the world after watching that angelic sight. He was driven with the singular purpose of feeling Bucky against his, inside him,  _ upon _ him, and he couldn’t wait a moment later. He yanked Bucky’s boxers down with a hasteful fury and began tearing off his own pajamas with the same speed.

Bucky chuckled patiently. “Okay, sweetheart, take it easy. Where’s the lube?” he found the bottle himself, gently placed on the floor next to the leg of the sofa for convenience of use. Steve already had Bucky’s hard cock out, working along the shaft with one hand and tracing his fingertips over Bucky’s stretch marks with the other. “So impatient today, honey. You keep rushin’, I’m not gonna let you come until I say.” Steve stopped himself from whining aloud, but Bucky caught his enthusiasm anyway. “That what you want, baby? Fine. Let me know when you’re close, and if you finish before I say you can, you’ll be in trouble. Okay?”

Steve nodded furiously. He couldn’t decide whether the idea of trouble or listening sounded more fun, but as it usually did, his desire to submit to authority won out and he knew that he would stop himself from breathing if Bucky said. 

He worked his own bottoms off, and at Bucky’s urging, his shirt too, and Bucky started prepping his ass while he ground down onto the larger man’s fingers. They’d been getting more practiced at anal, and Bucky was learning which positions were better for hitting Steve’s prostate and which positions could offer Steve waves of pleasure without hitting him  _ just _ where he needed it most. Steve knew he liked that kind best; there was a special kind of gleam Bucky got in his eye when Steve would beg. Fortunately, Steve was never above begging.

“Please,  _ please, _ put it inside me, daddy, I’m ready, just- p-please,” Steve stuttered, his hands moving over Bucky’s stomach in aborted little motions.

It amazed him how Bucky always managed to look so powerful and dominant while quite possibly not being able to move off the couch by himself. He looked at Steve with impassive stormy blue eyes, continuing to scissor his three fingers inside the blond. 

“Please, daddy, I’m loose enough, I want it- ah,  _ god _ ,” Steve whined, grabbing onto the shoulders of Bucky’s shirt that he was still wearing. “Won’t you take this off?”

“Pick one. Either I take off the shirt, or I penetrate you now.”

“When do you penetrate me if you take off the shirt?”

“When I want.”

Steve nodded. “I want to see you. Please.” Bucky removed his fingers, and Steve gasped. He worked himself out of his shirt one-armed, depositing it on the floor with the rest of their clothes. “Can I touch you?” he asked, fingers hovering over Bucky’s gut.

Bucky nodded, spreading his legs apart further so that Steve could have more room. 

Steve moved his left hand over the brunet’s pecs while he stroked Bucky’s shaft with his right, hoping that the more turned on Bucky was the quicker he might fuck Steve.

Steve took the moment to admire Bucky’s physique. It was changing so rapidly that he found himself unfamiliar with his lover’s body. Bucky’s shoulders were wide, broad with muscle and frame, and padded with a thick layer of fat. His pecs were large and round, sitting on the shelf of his impossibly round tummy. When he was full like this, he had no creases on the side, lovehandles lending themselves to the extension of his waistline. Recently, the rest of his body- his arms, ass, legs, and even face- had been playing catch-up and accumulating new layers of padding, but his stomach always remained Steve’s favourite topic. Currently, it was noisy, too; he could hear (and feel) Bucky’s poor system struggling to digest the large breakfast he’d ingested. As the surface area of his stomach grew and his sides rounded out, his overhang grew deeper and only part of his treasure trail was in view. 

Steve was just on the edge of desperate again when Bucky stilled his hand and motioned for him to line up. “Okay, baby boy, gonna fuck you now,” he said, his strong hands grasping Steve’s waist.

Steve could’ve sung for happiness as he sunk down on Bucky’s cock, finally satisfying the visceral need to be filled. “ _ Shit _ , Buck, you feel so good,” he moaned, letting Bucky move him how he wanted. 

“So good for me, Stevie, such a good boy,” Bucky praised, getting himself into the position he liked.

Steve bottomed out, hyper aware of the head of Bucky’s dick resting just against his prostate. He moved his thumbs over Bucky’s sensitive nipples, and Bucky arched, brushing against Steve’s g-spot. 

He cried out and Bucky continued to thrust against that place inside him. “God, honey, you’re so  _ tight _ ,” he exclaimed, panting. 

Steve already felt himself getting tired, worn out from begging. His muscles began to spasm from holding himself so rigid, and he grabbed onto the back of the sofa for support, sagging down and resting his head on Bucky’s chest. 

“Hang on, sweetheart,” Bucky warned, taking Steve by the waist and flipping them in one fluid motion. His power and strength surprised Steve, and before he knew it he was lying on the other end of the couch with Bucky kneeling above him. “Think you can put your legs on my shoulders?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah…” Steve panted, still shocked. “But… aren’t you too full?”

Bucky smirked. “Eh. Your belly rubs helped.” He helped Steve get his legs into position, and then continued to mercilessly thrust down, the curve of his dick hitting Steve’s prostate perfectly with every movement.

“B-buck,” Steve cried. “I’m… getting close…”

“Not yet, baby, hold on,” Bucky commanded, and Steve screwed his eyes shut. Pulses of lightning were moving from his throat to each of his limbs, setting his skin on fire. He was holding on as tightly as he could, chanting  _ not yet, just a little longer… _ in his head. He hoped Bucky knew his limits, because he really didn’t want to disappoint him. Even if trouble sounded nice, this morning he didn’t want to misbehave. He wanted to earn Bucky’s soft ‘ _ good boy _ ’.

Just when he thought he really couldn’t hold on for a second longer, Bucky spoke. “Okay, now, baby, come for me.” 

Steve released and came, hitting himself on the stomach and Bucky’s chest, too. Bucky maintained his pace, coaxing himself through the climax until he was spilling inside of Steve. He began to lean forward in exhaustion, but Steve’s legs wouldn’t fold anymore than they were. He attempted to speak, but his brain hadn’t come back online yet, and he muttered a garbled mess of words. 

Bucky got the message anyway, and laughed, collapsing on the other side of the couch. “Ugh, I’m so sweaty,” he complained.

“That’s okay, I’ll lick it off you,” Steve offered. 

Bucky huffed out a breathless chuckle, but shook his head. “That’s okay. I think I’d prefer a shower.”

They cleaned off together, managing to squeeze into the small (and getting increasingly smaller) stall. Afterward, they were clean and sated, and Bucky had the idea of taking a quick nap.

They were woken when Steve’s phone went off, a call from Carol inviting them over for lunch and to meet Monica, who had come to stay with them permanently. They changed into nice clothes, after a small round of Steve sabotaging Bucky by suggesting shirts that were all  _ far  _ too small, and then walked over. 

Maria served celery tuna fish sandwiches with chips and pickles, and Bucky had a polite two plates. Monica was absolutely charming, greeting Steve with a majestic curtsy and asking Bucky if he got to eat as much dessert as he wanted, since he was an adult. 

Carol and Maria seemed to be doing well; Monica was such a perfect fit for them that it was hard to imagine the house without her. Maria seemed to have put on some motherly weight, and Steve and Carol shared a knowing smile. 

A little after two, Bucky said that they ought to get back and check on the sheep, so they promised to visit again soon and walked back home. On the path, Steve spotted some wild daisies and forget-me-nots and picked a few for Bucky, tucking them behind his ear.

“I’m gonna grow it out for you, all the way down to my waist, and then you can braid flowers into it,” Bucky told him, and Steve laughed and held his hand. 

Once they reached the enclosure they tested the fence for stability and watched Scarecrow and Toto chase each other around a trough, and when it got dark they went inside for dinner. After they were done, Steve watched TV and Bucky shopped for some new clothes (size 3XL) online. 

They went to bed a little early; Steve had to wake up at 6 the next morning to drive out to Reykjavík to meet with another farmer. Bucky read on his phone a little, and Steve wrapped himself around Bucky entirely, like he was clinging to life. Months before, he would have worried about seeming too clingy, but not now.

“I was always searching for my purpose, you know?” he whispered. “I never felt whole unless I felt like there was meaning. I thought I was supposed to save the world.”

Bucky shifted, and Steve moved with him, as one creature; four legs, two hearts. “That’s why you joined the army?”

Steve nodded. “But that wasn’t my purpose. You are my world. And you saved me.” 

Bucky kissed the top of Steve’s head. It used to frighten Steve, thinking he couldn’t be big enough to make a difference, thinking he might be born and live and die without ever changing anything, that the world would just keep spinning and being the terrible place that it was. 

_ But the world isn’t 7 billion people, _ he was realizing.  _ The world is each individual. And we’re all saving it. _

He didn’t feel afraid. He felt so full, of love, of Bucky, of hope, of everything. It wasn’t enough to fill the hole inside him; sometimes it felt like it was collapsing, revealing even more depths than he’d thought. But he was starting to understand what the emptiness meant. It meant that he was alive, breathing, and fighting for happiness. He had his happiness; it was here in his arms. There was so much inside and out, and he’d never have to face any of it alone ever again. 

October 15th would make it twelve years since Sarah died. 

_ I made it, Mom. I found home. And it only took me a dozen years _ , Steve thought, letting a tear escape from his eye. It didn’t matter. It could’ve taken 70 and he wouldn’t mind. His home was with Bucky, and it always would be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed to make the name make sense, so it’s been 12 years since Steve’s mom died. I said before that she died in 2005, so that means this takes place in 2017. Oh well. Who knows what they’re doing? Not me. At least in this AU Thanos was taken out before he ever got a chance to dust Bucky amiright

**Author's Note:**

> I'm considering writing in Carol or Maria's POV as well and Steve and Bucky's. Leave in the comments if you want there to be weight gain in their relationship, too! I've never written a wlw fic before but I'll do my best ^-^


End file.
